The Eye of the Beholder
by viennacantabile
Summary: Tumnus and a fourteen year-old Lucy discuss beauty, older sisters, and giants stomping Tarkaans to death. Second of a four part oneshot series on Lucy/Tumnus.


Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing of Narnia except these words.

Note: This is set six years past the Pevensies' entry into Narnia, when Lucy is fourteen. Hope you enjoy!

—viennacantabile

* * *

The Eye of the Beholder

.

Queen Lucy Pevensie sighed in boredom. It was the first day of Spring, an event which normally would have delighted her to no end. Unfortunately for the youngest Pevensie sibling, this first day of Spring also signified the first day of entertaining the ambassadors and dignitaries from the neighboring lands who came for the annual Spring Festival of Narnia.

During the first few years, it had been exciting to meet so many different people, but the novelty was beginning to wear off. Instead of wandering through the Lantern Waste, or visiting old friends, Lucy was stuck inside a stuffy throne room entertaining the same people she had seen for nearly six years. And while she certainly lived up to her title, Lucy wasn't sure if she was Valiant enough for this.

Her thoughts turned to her dearest friend, Tumnus the Faun. Lucy smiled unconsciously. Dear Mr. Tumnus. He always came to visit on this anniversary of Aslan's coming. Lucy was expecting him later, and knew her siblings would let her escape and take a stroll through the woods with him for awhile. They always did.

Lucy's mind was ripped away from her friend by a blasting of trumpets. She inwardly winced and rubbed her temples surreptitiously. The Giants did mean well, after all, but it was a pity their lungs were so enormous.

"The Tarkaan Sanhamash, of Tashbaan, Calormen!"

The queen massaged her temples more vigorously. It always required a great deal of patience to deal with Calormenes, though this name was unfamiliar to her. Maybe she would be fortunate, and this Tarkaan's speech would be not so ridiculously formal, his manner not so presumptuous, his actions not so offensive. She could always dream.

Lucy sighed. Not likely.

Her sense of foreboding was only heightened when the dark-skinned ambassador strode in. He was a sight, with an enormous white turban and ornamented frills and bells jingling from every available place on his body. Flanked by subservient slaves, he was the picture of Calormene nobility and arrogance.

From the moment the man began to speak to her eldest brother, Lucy knew that this man was even worse than his predecessor—a feat she hadn't thought even possible. He skipped over Queen Susan in favor of Edmund—of course, thought Lucy, exasperated, how could she have forgotten that women were less than valued in Tashbaan?—and treated her, when he had spoken sufficiently to Edmund, like a very expensive, very petted slave. Lucy wondered how her sister managed to tolerate it, and suppressed a groan when the Tarkaan's sneer settled on her.

"O precocious Queen of the Eastern Seas," said the Tarkaan pompously. "I come bearing a small, mean mark of our favor upon you." He clapped his hands twice, and a retainer immediately ran to his side. "The most excellent Calormene dolls, for your pleasure." Holding up the gold and silver playthings, he gave a patronizing smile.

Lucy stared at him in shock, until Edmund nudged her discreetly. "Y-yes," stammered Lucy stiffly, finding her voice at last. "I thank you."

As the Calormene ambassador retook his position at the far left of the thrones, Lucy trembled with rage. The gall—the absolute arrogance of the Tarkaan! Treating her as a child to be placated with dolls and toys! The pride of the ambassador was not to be believed.

"Lucy," murmured Edmund out of the corner of his mouth, "just remember that he's not worth Rumblebuffin having to scour his boots. They're rather new."

The queen stared at her brother. How he knew that having the Giant crush the Tarkaan was exactly what she was imagining was beyond her. Lucy smiled. But, as always, he was right.

The trumpets blared again, and Lucy cringed. She would consider it, however, if only to get him away from that dratted instrument of his.

"Duke Vale, of Anvard, Archenland!"

The youngest queen immediately straightened, with a smile. Vale would cheer her up. He always did.

The duke walked in. As usual, the twenty-two year-old man had eyes only for Susan as he addressed Peter with King Lune's greetings, the state of Archenland, and so forth. Lucy waited impatiently. Finally, Vale beamed warmly at her. "My dear, dear, Lucy."

Lucy smiled in response. Her eyes ran over the duke's strong, handsome form, and felt something stirring in herself. She had grown several inches since last he had seen her. Perhaps the duke—perhaps he would notice?

"Still a child, of course, but I can see great beauty in the years to come." The duke chuckled and bent slightly, to look her in the face. "My dear, as always, you are welcome at Anvard. My darling niece misses your presence greatly."

Lucy went pale, her hands clenched into fists hidden in the folds of her skirts. Titania was five. Trying to master the growing lump in her throat, she barely noted his address to Edmund. Instead, she flinched when Vale at last reached her sister.

"My dear Queen," he breathed in open admiration. "I must admit, at our last parting, I had thought there could be no greater beauty than yours. I was wrong."

The court stirred and murmured. Surely he did not go so far as to insult their famed queen?

"Your beauty has multiplied a hundredfold since then."

The relief and approval of the court was almost tangible. Vale gave a decidedly rakish grin. "And now, if I might have the pleasure of your company for a short walk?"

"You may," smiled Susan graciously. "Peter...?"

"By all means." The High King gave his sister a knowing look, producing a blush and a meaningful look of her own.

As Vale lifted his arm for Susan to take, the blood rushed to Lucy's head. Feeling as though she might cry any moment, she decided it was best to leave.

"Peter," said Lucy, rising to her feet unsteadily, "I'm—I'm not feeling quite well. If I'm not needed, might I retire?"

Peter's blue eyes narrowed into a look of concern. "You do look a bit ill. Shall I send someone with you?"

"No," answered Lucy shortly, stung at the insinuation that she could not travel the short length from the throne room to her bedchamber. "I'm quite able to take care of myself, thank you."

Vale paused, turning slightly. "I really must insist that you at least send for her nurse, sire. Dear Titania always finds them most comforting."

Lucy bit her lips. It was the last straw.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I am well past the age of requiring a nurse," she replied coldly. "_Or_ my brother's tending." With that, she turned on her heel and exited the room, ignoring the bewildered faces behind her.

Instead of taking the left passage that led to her chambers, Lucy found herself slipping behind a protruding point of wall into a cleverly concealed stairway that she was positive only she knew of.

At the end of the winding staircase stood a marvelously carven door, painted a deep scarlet and inlaid with gold. When Lucy traveled this way, she usually paused to admire the illustration of the Great Lion, Aslan, and the sun rising from the sea, and to wonder as to what purpose the courtyard in the sky was built for. Today, she simply thrust her palms into the wood and strode blinking into the sunlight.

Lucy's refuge bore the unusual distinction of being located at the very pinnacle of Cair Paravel. It was a small, open-air space that contained, among a number of things, a stone bench, a balcony that faced the Sea, and small alcove for storage. By Lucy's calculations, the place was directly above the throne room. She had discovered it upon an intrepid exploration of the castle, after the others grew too old to play with her. Without knowing exactly why, Lucy had kept the place a secret. Now, as upon many other occasions, she was thankful she had. It was here that Lucy Pevensie, Queen of Narnia and the Eastern Seas, came to think.

The young girl leaned against the balcony with a sigh, chin and forearms resting on the cool white stone. Vale's patronizing, if kindly meant, words infuriated her. She was _not_ a child in need of nurses or five year-old companions! She was fourteen, and completely capable of making her own decisions.

It was even harder to be taken seriously when she was growing into a woman four years after her older sister. At fifteen, Susan had already been turning the heads of the ambassadors that came to Cair Paravel every year. A year later came the first marriage proposal, another year brought the first tournaments in her honor.

Lucy wasn't blind. She knew she was plain, compared to Susan. The Gentle Queen was fairly dazzling, as the Valiant Queen was not. She wasn't deaf, either—and the whispers in the court were all too present. "Pretty," they would say, "in her own kind of way." And always the same verdict—"but Susan's the real beauty."

Always pretty, never beautiful. It was a thought that gnawed at her heart. Lucy normally managed to keep a bright face on, but sometimes, she couldn't help the frustration that rose in her when yet another handsome man fell at the feet of her sister. At these times, she gave up pretending that she wasn't immeasurably envious of her sister and crept away to nurse a pain that not even her cordial could ease. And the next morning, Lucy the Valiant would once again take her place at court and smile at Queen Susan the Gentle.

"But I can't take it any longer," whispered Lucy, tears trickling down her face.

"Can't take what?"

Lucy snapped around, her eyes wide in shock as she glimpsed a familiar red muffler and its owner.

"Mr.-Mr. Tumnus?" she gasped. "But—how did you know I was here?"

Tumnus smiled crookedly. "Really, Lucy. Do you think I would not know everything there is to know about my dearest friend?"

Lucy wrinkled her forehead. But she had been _sure_—

"Actually, I came for a visit and entered the throne room just in time to see you leave the throne room so suddenly," the Faun admitted. "I went to make sure you were all right, and I...saw you disappear into a corner. I was worried, so I followed you." His own forehead creased. "Or—would you prefer to be alone?"

Lucy was much too upset to mind that her secret place had been found out. After all, Mr. Tumnus had been her first friend in Narnia. Instead, she leapt up flung her arms around him.

"Oh, Mr. Tumnus," she sobbed into his chest, "I'm so tired of being treated like a child!"

Tumnus's blue eyes widened in surprise. "Well, now," he said gently, patting her on the back awkwardly. He stepped back a bit to look her in the eyes. "Who's been treating you like a child?"

"Duke Vale!" Lucy cried. "And Peter, and Susan, and that ghastly Tarkaan from Calormen who gave me dolls! _Dolls_, Mr. Tumnus!"

"Ah...Duke Vale," Tumnus repeated quietly, thinking of the handsome Archenlander. He thought he saw the problem.

"And Peter and Susan still act like I'm eight years old—like I'll break into pieces if they don't watch me every second of the day. I'm _not_ a child anymore, Mr. Tumnus, I'm not!" Lucy dashed away hot tears.

Tumnus gathered himself together. Now was not the time for his own woes. "Well," he said briskly, "we can see that you're not a child anymore. Why, just look at you! Only a year ago, you were three inches shorter!"

Lucy blinked. To her surprise, she found that he was right. Where she had once reached her friend's chest, she was now just below his shoulder.

"And if I'm not mistaken, your stature and poise is not that of a child either," continued the Faun. "Lucy, my dear, you have truly grown into a Queen."

Lucy blushed. "Dear Mr. Tumnus," she murmured. "You always know what to say, don't you? I don't know what I would do without you."

The corner of Tumnus's mouth rose a bit. "The same to you, Lucy. And in keeping with your older self, it's been six years, hasn't it? I do believe you may begin to leave off the 'Mister' bit, don't you? It makes me feel older than I am."

Lucy tilted her head, surprised. "T-Tumnus," she mused, tasting the sound on her lips. "Why...yes. It does seem to fit." She smiled up at him, then promptly burst into tears again.

Alarmed, Tumnus pulled her to the bench and settled them both down. "Lucy—Lucy, what's the matter?"

"It's rather silly, I'm afraid," muttered Lucy, wiping tears away with her sleeve.

"Well, I've got all the time you need," said Tumnus, producing a rather battered handkerchief as if by magic.

Amazed, Lucy stared at it. "You still have it!"

"Of course," smiled her friend. He tenderly dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "Now, tell me what's bothering you."

Lucy looked down at her lap and gave a great sigh. "I don't believe I'm ever going to be anything like Susan."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" asked Tumnus, puzzled. To him, Lucy was perfect and nothing would ever change that. He much preferred her to Susan, at any rate. "I like you just the way you are," he said sincerely, looking her straight in the eyes. "And to tell you the truth, I've always been a bit frightened by Her Majesty. Feel like I might go blind, sometimes."

"But that's just it," Lucy sighed longingly. "She's so perfect. So everything I'm not. So—" Lucy let the word linger in her mouth—"_beautiful_."

Tumnus thought he would never understand females. "Lucy," he began, totally confused, "what makes you think you're not?"

"Just look at her," she murmured despondently. "And if that's not enough, look at _me_. Ask anyone in court—it's no secret. Ask Vale—he certainly didn't shower me with praises of beauty."

"Lucy, look at me."

Startled by the intensity in his tone, Lucy raised her eyes, then quickly looked down again. Tumnus studied her tear-streaked face and swollen eyes carefully. He made note of the dust from the stairs that clung to her, and the streaks of some grimy unidentified substance on her skin. She did not look at all like the Queen she was.

The Faun reached out his hand and gently tilted her chin up, until her eyes met his.

"I don't know about Vale," Tumnus said softly, "but you're beautiful to me."

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, not only at his words, but at the expression on his earnest face. His blue eyes held something she had never seen in them before. There was endless love, of course, sincerity, and—sorrow? Lucy didn't know what reason he had for that emotion. But it was there, nevertheless—sorrow, tinged with something else that she couldn't identify. It wasn't until years later that Lucy matched the nameless emotion in her friend's eyes to a concrete memory.

She had been six. Edmund, seven, Peter, eleven. She'd been watching her brothers playing with toy soldiers. Every word, every glance between them had been like a secret language only known to themselves. Lucy had begged and begged to be let in, but she was rebuffed every time. Ten year-old Susan had held her back, explaining that it wasn't supposed to be understood. It was something only boys did.

In time, Lucy came to understand. But what Susan didn't know was that it was the camaraderie, the love the two brothers shared, that Lucy wanted. She wanted to be a part of that special relationship. And the look in Tumnus's eyes matched the emotion in the younger Lucy's heart.

Longing—for something she could never have.

.

Many hours later, when Lucy and Tumnus returned to the throne room, Duke Vale rushed over, issuing profuse apologies. Susan had apparently given him quite a tongue-lashing.

"I _am_ sorry, Your Majesty" he said penitently. "I wasn't thinking, that's all. Please forgive me. I forget sometimes that you really are growing up."

Susan kicked him slightly.

"Er—I mean, that you _are_ grown up," he amended, flushing.

"That's all right," said Lucy, laughing at his obvious lack of sense around her sister. "I forgive you."

"We're _all_ sorry, Lu," added Peter, sounding more like his old self than King Peter, the Magnificent. "We don't mean to do that, you know. I just—forget sometimes that you don't need me to protect you anymore."

Susan nodded, her beautiful face contrite. "I should be treating you more like the lady you are, I know," she admitted, smoothing Lucy's hair. "I suppose I'm just afraid you'll get _too_ grown-up."

Edmund only embraced her, giving her a quiet smile. Of all the family, Edmund had understood her frustration the most. He, too, struggled with comparisons to magnificence.

Lucy grinned at them all. She should have known better than to underestimate her family's love for her.

"O most illustrious Barbarian Majesties," called an impatient voice, "this lowly, accursed dog"—several Talking Dogs growled at this—"is most wearied from the presence of your exalted company, and humbly begs to enter the abode of dreams."

The four Pevensies turned as one. The Calormene delegation stood before them, the Tarkaan in front, eyes flashing.

"What say you?" he demanded. "Our most pitiable company has not yet been informed of our accommodations by our most generous hosts."

At this, Peter motioned Oreius over and exchanged a meaningful look with him. While playing guide to an ambassador was certainly beneath his station, the High King knew that the centaur was more than a match for this arrogant minion of the Tisroc.

"Oreius," said Peter, masking a chuckle as the Tarkaan sidled furtively away from the imposing general, "will you do the honors?"

The centaur bared his teeth in a knowing grin. "Certainly," he replied courteously, ignoring his charge's discomfort.

"Good—good night, O favored Kings and Queens of the North," the Tarkaan mumbled. Then, trying to reclaim his wounded dignity, he straightened and tossed back, "And, little Queen, enjoy the poor trifles from the Tisroc, may he live forever. Pray, play with your dolls, and be content in such paltry tokens of our goodwill."

Peter, Susan, and Edmund immediately bridled. Oreius gave the man a sidelong warning glance. Taking the hint, the Calormene doubled his pace and was soon out of sight.

"Lucy?" said Peter worriedly. "Are you all right? You know he's just trying to annoy you."

"Don't worry," Lucy laughed. "I'm quite all right. I see things...in a bit of a different light, now."

"Are you sure?" asked Edmund, gazing straight into her eyes.

"I'm sure," she nodded firmly. Tearing her gaze away, she looked past her siblings and straight up at Mr. Tumnus—Tumnus, she reminded herself, not Mr. Tumnus anymore—who winked at her. Her face colored unexpectedly as she grinned back and mouthed the words, "Thank you."

It was strange, she thought. Looking at Tumnus and remembering the words he had said above the sky, Lucy found that she didn't mind quite so much anymore.

.

.end.


End file.
